It Was Supposed to be Over
by daydreamer1227
Summary: The battle is won. It's finally over. Ron and Hermione watch as Harry makes his way to Gryffindor Tower to sleep. They almost follow him, but convince themselves that he'll be fine, because Voldemort is gone, along with all his horcruxes. Watch as disaster strikes, and the end of a battle turns into a frantic search while they hope beyond hope that they wont be too late. For Harry.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head. Let me know if you like :)

**It Was Supposed to be Over: Chapter One**

Ron and Hermione watched as Harry began making his way to the Gryffindor tower. He looked terrible, they thought. His shoulders were slumped, his skin was ashen, his hair was matted, singed, and stiff with dried blood.

Hermione felt a tear roll down her cheek. "He died tonight Ron." she said quietly, still staring at Harry, unable to take her eyes off him, as if she were afraid he would disappear. She made to follow him, vowing never to let him out of her sight again.

Ron's hand on her shoulder stopped her. "He'll be fine. Let him get some sleep."

Hermione looked at him with sad eyes, "But-

"It's over Hermione." Ron said, grinning. "It's finally over. Voldemort is gone. Harry is safe now."

Hermione took a deep breath. "He's safe..." she repeated, trying to make herself believe the words. She had worried for him for years. To be able to say it now, and have it be true, brought more tears to her eyes. "No more visions." she said.

"No more scar pains." added Ron as he grabbed Hermione's hand and began leading her back to the Great Hall.

"No more death defying stunts." she sighed.

"No more nightm-" but Ron stopped there and frowned.

"I think we're all going to have nightmares, Ron." said Hermione quietly.

Ron just nodded before casting a nervous glance over his shoulder back in the direction they had left Harry. "Maybe we should-

"There you are, Ron, Hermione! I've been looking for you everywhere!" It was Neville, with Luna by his side.

"Has something happened?" asked Ron immediately.

"Oh yes," said Luna vaguely, "I would say so."

Ron shot her a look before switching his gaze desperately to Neville.

"I-I can't really explain it... nobody can... we don't know why-

"Spit it out, Neville!"

"Ron!" reprimanded Hermione, but Ron could not bring himself to care. If something had happened... if someone had been hurt...

"It's Fred." said Neville, who oddly looked to be fighting a grin.

Ron felt like he had been punched. Fred. His dead brother. "What about him?" said Ron hoarsely in dread.

"He's not quite... I mean he's not really... he's not truly all the way dead." he stammered.

Ron just stared.

"Oh he seemed relatively alive when I spoke to him." said Luna. "But maybe that's just me. He asked me if we won because I was the only one around who hadn't started crying when he woke up."

"Woke up? said Ron in disbelief, not daring himself to hope because it was surely impossible... but what if...

His feet began moving on their own; he knew it was some kind of sick joke, it had to be, because this wasn't possible. He hated himself, he hated that he was allowing himself to doubt what he'd seen; Fred was dead. He knew that. He hated himself for this hope that was sprouting despite him trying to push it away.

The others followed him in silence, running to the Great Hall where-

"Ron!" his mother called as he burst into the Hall. Everyone else in the room went silent and watched as Ron approached the rest of the Weasleys. His mother had a tear streaked face, but the smile on it was undeniable.

Ron marched right up to two red heads who looked remarkably similar, minus the fact that one was missing an ear. He tore his wand out and pointed it at his dead brother's face.

"Ron, he's-

"Shut it George!" snapped Ron. "I saw you," he told the look-alike-Fred, "I saw you die."

Not-Fred grimaced. "I didn't die, Ronnie, I-

"Yes you did!" said Ron as tears poured unwarranted down his face. "I saw you!" he cried. "I saw you." he said again in a small whisper.

Not-Fred sighed. "Look. I know what you saw. I don't know what that spell did to me, but it sure scared the bloody hell outta me. I was so cold... I couldn't move... I couldn't hear... It was as if I was drowning at the bottom of the ocean... it was suffocating."

"You stopped breathing!" said Ron, his wand shaking in his trembling hand.

Fred held his hands up in defeat. "I don't know what happened, all right? I was isolated from all my senses one second, and then I was free the next." he shivered. "I'm just glad it's over."

Ron just stared at him before tightening his grip on his wand. "Prove it. Prove to me you're Fred."

"Ron-

"No mum."

"He already-

"I need to be sure!" he yelled. "Prove to me you're Fred." he pleaded. "Please."

"I'm not Fred." he said resignedly. Ron tried to ignore the stinging in his eyes and the ache in his throat. "I'm George." he said before pointing at the real George, "That's Fred. Honestly, you'd think you'd be able to tell us apart by now-

Ron tackled his brother in a hug. Only Fred would joke at a time like this. Only Fred would think of the most idiotic way possible to prove his identity.

"Nice try, Forge." Ron mumbled into his brother's shoulder. "But he lost an ear, you dolt!"

Fred returned the hug with a smile on his face before looking at Hermione. "Oh good, you're alive." he said pleasantly, before his eyes scanned the area around him. "Where's Harry?"

The effect was instantaneous. The entire Hall stilled besides a few people who dropped their wands in shock at the question, and then there was silence.

Ron took in a trebling breath before running a hand through his hair. "Déjà vu." he muttered weakly.

Ginny began to panic. She had been the one to say that not so long ago, only to find that he had turned himself over to Voldemort. 'Where's Harry?' The effect had been much the same as now; everyone had stopped whatever they were doing as the question seemed to echo repeatedly in their heads.

Where's Harry?

Where's Harry?

Ginny began whipping her head around. "Oh God." she muttered as she searched the sea of heads for that matt of hair she knew so well, "This can't be happening. Not again. Oh God." Tears sprang unbidden to her eyes. "I don't see him! No, this can't be happening again-

Ron grabbed his sister's shoulders and tried to calm her. He looked into her eyes and slowly explained to her. "Harry is fine. Ginny, do you hear me? He's fine. He's alive. He just went upstairs to rest. Do you understand, Ginny? Harry is alive."

Her frantic breathing began to slow before she engulfed Ron in an embrace while she sobbed.

Fred looked as pale as a ghost. "Does anybody feel like they want to explain to me what the bloody hell that was all about?" he growled.

"Harry died." answered George quietly, his face stricken, as if he too was remembering seeing Harry dead, at Voldemort's feet.

Fred's face lost the remainder of its color. Harry. The name brought a surge of concern and protectiveness whenever he heard it. People die during war. He knew that. He knew the probability for Harry to survive had been small, but somehow he had always expected him to pull through. Because Harry couldn't die. He had survived the impossible time and time again but never once had he believed Harry would die. He had worried and dwelled on it, just as much as everyone else, but he had never truly believed it would happen. It could, but he had been nearly certain that it never would.

Because Harry couldn't die.

Because Harry was Harry.

And Harry tends to bring out the weaknesses in everybody. Because he's Harry. That's just who he is.

"Harry... he's... he's... dead?" asked Fred in emotional agony. He had already learned of Remus and Tonks' deaths, but to add Harry on top of that was just too much.

"No!" said George quickly, correcting his mistake.

"But you just said..."

"Oh it's all quite understandable, really." said Luna airily. "Harry died but he's not dead."

Fred just stared for a moment before closing his eyes. "I've gone nutters, haven't I? Completely barmy. That spell must have addled my brain."

"Harry was hit with the killing curse," supplied Hermione who was fighting to keep her own emotions at bay. "But he survived."

"Again?" asked Fred in awe and confusion.

"She nodded in confirmation. "Again."

Fred's lips finally broke into a smile, "Brilliant." he said. Fred had long ago accepted that he would never understand the impossibility that was Harry Potter, so this completely inadequate explanation was enough for him. "Now I can annoy him by calling him the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice." He suddenly frowned again. "You all still haven't answered my question. Where's Harry?"

The entire Hall seemed to shudder as one. "Don't say that! Ginny snapped. "Don't you ever say that again!"

"Well what do you want me to say?" he asked, perplexed, "There's only so many ways I can ask where someone is." but when Ginny only glared fiercely at him along with Ron, Hermione, and all the Weasleys, he sighed. "Fine, fine." he said with his hands up in defeat. "Can anyone tell me what location the Boy-Who-Lived-Twice currently resides?" he asked in annoyance with a smirk.

"You may think it's funny!" snapped Mrs. Weasley. "But you weren't there! Ginny asked 'Where's Harry?' and I think I nearly passed out. We all knew where he'd gone the moment we noticed his absence. And then You-Know- oh blast it all- and then Voldemort came out... saying he was dead... with Harry lying at his feet..." but she could say no more, as she had burst into tears.

Arthur patted his wife's shoulder in an attempt at comfort, but his face was oddly pale and blank. "There, there, Molly." he said in an expressionless voice, "You heard Ron; Harry's fine. He's alive."

All this talk of Harry's supposed death was beginning to really scare Fred; he was debating on going to go check on Harry himself, make sure he was really alive, but there was one rather large problem... "I still don't know where he is." growled Fred in irritation, but no one was listening.

Ron was struggling with Hermione in a quiet argument as she restrained him from sprinting out of the Great Hall. "Maybe I should go check on him, just to be sure-

"He's fine, Ron. Voldemort's gone. He's safe now."

"Yeah, but what if he has a nightmare? What if he wakes up and doesn't remember where he is? What if he-" but he stopped abruptly and looked at Hermione in horror. "I know what he's doing! He's brooding! Wallowing in his own guilt, that's what! He's blaming himself for Tonks, Lupin and- and- and Fred! He doesn't know Fred's alive! We have to tell him Hermione! Come on!"

But suddenly a voice broke over the castle, magically magnified, that made everyone freeze and drain of color simultaneously. This was all too much. The feeling of Déjà vu was stronger than ever, and all those who were close to Harry momentarily forgot to breathe. The message this time wasn't that Harry was dead, but for all the fear and horror it caused, it might as well have been.

"You people are really dim, you know that? You'd think you'd be more cautious mere hours after my master was killed; letting the Boy-Who-Lived make his way through the castle on his own? Really, I thought you all had more sense than that."

Ron, who was already paler than a ghost, looked positively ashen now. "Oh God, no." he muttered in terror.

"Poor Harry looked exhausted." continued the Death Eater. "It wasn't hard to take him down, he was practically dead on his feet."

Ron's face morphed into one of fury.

"Don't worry; your dear 'Chosen One' is still alive. Hey Potter, anything you want to say to your friends?" There was a thud and a hiss of pain before the Death Eater continued. "What a stubborn savior you all have. I asked you a question, Potter!" There was another thud and a whimper.

A whimper that was all too familiar to those who had heard Harry in pain before.

"That bastard." Ron growled. He couldn't believe it. They had won. Voldemort was dead. Harry was supposed to be safe. It was supposed to be over! This shouldn't, couldn't, be happening!

It was supposed to be over!

There was a low chuckle as the Death Eater began speaking again. "I guess I shouldn't have expected any different; coherent thought is a bit difficult after a dozen Cruciatus Curses."

The Hall drew a horrified breath as one.

Ron slowly sank to the floor in guilt and horror. He never should have left Harry alone. He never should have let him go to the Gryffindor Tower on his own. He never should have left his side so soon.

"I'm sure you all want to come rescue your savior and what-not, but let me remind you..." his voice suddenly turned cold, "That there are hundreds of rooms in this castle, and that every second you waste, is a second of agony for dear Harry Potter." his voice turned into a jeer, "Happy searching!"

The silence lasted for about a second before the tumult broke around them.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**It Was Supposed to be Over: Chapter Two**

Harry could feel his friends' worried gazes on his back as he left them for the Gryffindor Tower. They needn't be worrying, he told himself a little sadly. He was perfectly fine.

In the back of his head, there was a snarky little voice that argued and told him that he was not at all fine. His head was throbbing painfully, and the bruise where the killing curse had hit him was screaming for medical attention. Breathing was slightly difficult and a tad painful; maybe the killing curse had broken a rib or two as well. Exhaustion was claiming him quickly now that his adrenaline had faded, and he was half tempted to just lie down and sleep right there in the middle of the cold rubble-strewn corridor.

Harry let out a weary sigh as he began climbing yet another staircase on the way to the tower. He half expected the stairs to do what the avada kedavra had not. He let out a weak snort, imagining the Daily Prophet headline: The Boy-Who-Lived, done in by some stairs.

His weak smile faded all too quickly as he felt the most painful injury of all; and it was, unfortunately, one that could not be healed. The deaths of Collin, Remus, Tonks, and Fred weighed so heavily on his heart that he was surprised he hadn't collapsed with the weight of it.

They were gone. Dead.

Just like his parents.

Just like Cedric.

Like Sirius.

Like Dumbledore.

Hedwig.

Mad-Eye.

He could now add more to the ever-growing list. Would it ever stop? Here he was, when it was supposed to be over, grieving over yet more deaths.

Snape.

Dobby.

Who else lie downstairs in the Hall, unmoving with unseeing eyes? Who else had lost their lives that he had yet to discover? Harry did not want to know. If any more lives were added to his guilty conscience, he would surely collapse.

The idea of turning around to find Ginny and tell her that he loved her crossed his mind briefly, but he disregarded it. He doubted he would have the energy to walk all the way back down to the Great Hall, and his mind was so sluggish with fatigue that he knew the overabundance of things that he wanted to tell her would never come out right. No, that talk could wait for a time when he didn't feel like a walking corpse.

A small sound made him tense and grab his wand. He mentally berated himself, knowing he was probably just being paranoid, but a year's worth of being on the run would not be undone in one night.

There was a low chuckle to his left, and Harry reacted instantly. A stunner was out of his wand so quickly that the cruel laugh abruptly turned into a string of curses. The curse rebounded off of a hastily placed shield charm into the wall near Harry's head, but he paid it no mind as he stared at the Death Eater that had been concealed by a nearby tapestry.

"Aren't you Death Eaters bored at ruining my life yet?" Harry asked irritably.

The man smiled. "Quite the contrary, Mr. Potter."

Harry frowned. He recognized the Death Eater before him. He vaguely remembered seeing his face once before, but he couldn't recall where, or his name.

Harry, his wand still trained on the Death Eater who was hiding behind his shield, did not notice the second Death Eater that was slowly creeping up behind him.

"What do you want with me?" asked Harry. "Your master is dead. Why are you still here?"

Completely ignoring Harry's questions, the Death Eater asked one of his own. "Why are you wandering the castle alone? It's not safe; especially for you."

"Well that's nothing new." said Harry bitterly, keeping his wand trained on the man in front of him. "Someone's always trying to kill me. What, are you going to take Voldemort's place as my new murderous psycho killer?"

"We're not here to kill you... at least not yet."

"We?" asked Harry in confusion, his weary mind processing what that meant agonizingly slow. As his eyes widened at the implications of the word, a hand reached around and clamped over his mouth from behind. A strong arm was suddenly pinning his wand arm to his side as his wand clattered uselessly to the floor.

As Harry struggled weakly against the unknown attacker, the Death Eater stepped from behind his shield and raised his wand slowly until it pointed at Harry's face. There was a jet of red light, and Harry's body went limp as he knew no more.

oOo

Harry could hear voices around him. He wished they'd be quiet; he was trying to sleep...

"Do it again."

"I've already done it three times! He's not going to wake."

"Oh, let me!" There was a scuffle before a muffled "Ennervate."

Harry's eyes seemed to open against their will and two blurry figures above him came into view. He blinked a few times before everything slowly came into focus.

Oh that's right, Harry remembered dully, I was captured by some Death Eaters that probably want revenge for killing their master... great.

"See, it worked this time. I should have known never to trust your petty wand work."

Harry felt his stomach grumble silently, reminding him that he never did get that sandwich from Kreacher.

The two Death Eaters above him were grinning maniacally, the one who had managed to finally wake him, who also happened to be the one who had stunned him in the first place. He had an unhealthy pinched sort of look about him that told Harry that he wasn't the only one who'd had a rough year.

The other man oddly reminded Harry of a rather overgrown pug. His face sort of squashed in on itself in a way that looked almost painful, but he had the complete opposite build of the thin skeletal like figure next to him. He was at least a foot and a half taller, and his arms were about as thick as a python. His expression was vacant to the point that Harry wondered if he hadn't fallen asleep standing over him with his eyes open.

"Finally awake, are we, Potter?" the skeletal man sneered.

"Nope, still out cold." Harry said sarcastically, trying hard not to wince as he felt all his previously forgotten pain wash over him in waves that shook him to his very core.

The man just smirked. "You'll soon wish you were."

Harry wanted to think of something really witty and cutting to say, but all he could manage was, "You're mental."

The thin man laughed before turning to his pug-faced- friend, "Secure the room, Fletcher." he told him. The man, Fletcher, immediately set to work by casting multiple spells in various places of what Harry now recognized as his old Divination classroom; though all squishy pillows and mystic hangings had been removed, leaving the room disturbingly bare.

"You're Rodolphus Lestrange." Harry said suddenly, at last placing a name to the face.

The thin man regarded him for a moment before he made a quick swishing movement with his wand, making chains sprout from nowhere and latch themselves to the ceiling. With another flick of his wand, the two chains found Harry's before magically attaching themselves around his thin wrists. As if that wasn't enough, Lestrange used his wand to shorten the chains, drawing themselves up into the ceiling, forcing Harry to his feet. The two chains stopped at a length that offered Harry no reprieve; it was taught to the point where if he didn't stand perfectly straight and on the balls of his feet, the shackles dug painfully into his skin... well, they did that anyway, but not as bad as they were capable.

Harry found this position far from comfortable. The strain it put on his ribs, having his arms being held above his head like that, was unbearable. He suddenly found himself short of breath, each gasp more painful than the last.

"Fletcher!" Lestrange snapped. "You finished yet?"

Fletcher nodded before joining the two in the center of the tower.

As always, the Divination room was stifling hot, making all occupants feel as if they were in an oven. Harry's torn and bloody shirt was sticking to his back due to perspiration.

"So." said Lestrange in a tone that Harry knew meant trouble. "So." he said again yet more forcefully, and Harry couldn't stop the quiver of fear entering his heart. "You strip the Dark Lord of all his powers at age one. You live happily for fourteen years while I am locked up in Azkaban." He began to circle Harry, making the boy extremely nervous when he stopped directly behind him, out of his line of sight. "And now=, you've killed the Dark Lord..." the man paused, leaving Harry waiting in anticipation. "You killed the leader of the Death Eaters' noble cause."

"Noble?" Harry spat recklessly. "Killing and torturing muggles, blood-traitors, and muggleborns is not noble! It's sick! Your views are sadistic and twisted-

But his rant was cut short as the enormous fist of Fletcher connected with his stomach. Unable to help himself, Harry cried out in pain form the contact.

Lestrange chuckled darkly. "This is only the beginning, Harry Potter. I bet you thought everyone would just leave you alone once the Dark Lord was gone. Once he was dead, surely the Death Eaters would be disbanded or get sent to Azkaban." He walked around until he faced Harry's front again, putting his own face much too close to Harry's for comfort as he snarled, "You haven't stopped anything. The Dark Lord may be gone, but his views and beliefs are far from it. You've only made it worse for yourself." A slow smile began curling at his lips. "Perhaps a demonstration?"

Harry recognized the demonic glint in his eye, trying to prepare himself.

"Crucio!"

It was just as bad, if not worse, as he remembered it. He screamed in agony as the curse ripped through his body; the pain from the chains digging into his wrists as he thrashed uncontrollably tripled, and he vaguely felt the skin tear as blood unceremoniously began running down his arms.

When the curse finally ended, Harry was gasping for much needed breath. He no longer had the energy to stand up straight and on the balls of his feet, so he just hung limply from the chains as they bit into his flesh.

"How does that make you feel, Harry?" asked Lestrange quietly, staring at the wand he was now rolling in his fingers. "You could have gone into hiding... left the country... do you regret fighting in this hopeless battle, seeing where it's brought you?"

Harry gritted his teeth before snarling, "One, it wasn't hopeless, you're just a sore loser and too afraid to admit that it's over. Two, I could have gone into hiding, yes, but I'm stronger than that, and I'm no coward. And three..." Harry spat in Lestrange's face, "No matter if you're right or wrong, you're still a piece of shit."

Lestrange wiped away the saliva in disgust before smiling grimly, "You shouldn't have done that, Potter."

No?" asked Harry flippantly. "What're you gonna do about it? Chain me up and torture me? Oh, wait!" he said sarcastically, "You've already done that!" He hardened his expression, "You were already planning to do your worst, so it makes no difference now what I do." Just for good measure, Harry spat at him again.

The fury on the man's face suddenly morphed into a smirk as he exchanged a glance with Fletcher. "Do you know the purpose of the Cruciatus Curse, Potter?" he asked, surprising Harry with the question. "To cause pain." he answered himself quietly. "This curse can be used many ways, which is understandable, as there are countless ways to make someone feel pain." He raised his wand, "How about a lesson?"

Harry's breathing quickened. Of course he knew this, how could he not when he had the smartest witch of his age as a best friend?

"Crucio!"

And so it began. Lestrange explained before every variation of the curse. He explained to Harry what it did to the body, and how much pain it caused, before actually casting it.

Crucio-multiple deep lacerations littered his body, immediately covering him in his own blood-

Crucio- Harry burned as if he were on fire, thrashing against his bonds as he screamed-

Crucio- his body froze up, forcing him to endure the pain without moving or breathing-

Crucio- Harry's voice was growing hoarse with screaming, but the feeling of an unrelenting force pressing in on him from all sides gave him no reprieve to catch his breath-

Crucio- he felt as if he were being torn apart from the inside out-

Crucio- surely he would die soon, because nobody could live through this unrelenting agony-

Crucio.

Crucio.

Crucio.

Harry waited for the next curse to come as he hung limply from the chains, no longer able to feel his arms that were still raised above his head. Harry waited for a long while, before convincing himself that it must be over. He slowly relaxed his tense muscles before he immediately regretted it as pain hit him once again with a satisfied 'Crucio'.

Screaming as his ears rang and his head pounded and his body felt as if it were being brutally ripped apart, Harry felt all hope leave him. If nobody had helped him by now, than they obviously didn't hear his deafening screams as they echoed back at him. Fletcher had worked his charms well. They most likely didn't even realize he was gone.

The pain did not stop when the curse was lifted. His entire self still throbbed in the lingering agony. Opening his eyes blearily, he saw Lestrange grinning evilly at him as Fletcher watched from the sidelines.

"How do you feel, Harry?" he asked in mock concern.

Harry couldn't work up the strength to respond. He shut his eyes again wearily, just willing it to be over. His job was done. He didn't need this... When he opened his eyes again, he noticed Lestrange watching him thoughtfully.

"You don't care, do you?" he asked curiously. "You really don't..." Understanding slowly etched its way onto his face. "I know how we can make this interesting." He waved his wand and Harry flinched, but nothing happened... not until his booming voice forced Harry to cry out as his head pounded.

"You people are really dim, you know that? You'd think you'd be more cautious mere hours after my master was killed; letting the Boy-Who-Lived make his way through the castle on his own? Really, I thought you all had more sense than that."

Harry sued what little energy he had left to glare at Lestrange, who just looked at him knowingly.

"Poor Harry looked exhausted. It wasn't hard to take him down; he was practically dead on his feet."

Harry knew what Lestrange was doing, and he hated him for it.

"Don't worry; your dear 'Chosen One' is still alive. Hey Potter, anything you want to say to your friends?"

It took all Harry had not to cry out at the unexpected blow to his stomach, but he couldn't repress a small hiss of pain. Lestrange hadn't even given him a chance to respond. Now in too much pain to do so, he just gritted his teeth, willing his sudden nausea to pass.

"What a stubborn savior you all have. I asked you a question, Potter!"

This blow landed on his bloody torso, directly where the killing curse had struck him only hours ago. He could not hold back this whimper of pain as agony racked his body. He bit his tongue to keep from screaming.

Lestrange laughed at Harry's struggle to keep quiet. "I guess I shouldn't have expected any different; coherent thought is a bit difficult after a dozen Cruciatus Curses."

Harry's heart went out to his friends as he imagined their reactions. He desperately tried to manage some type of sentence to reassure them that he was all right, but he was still having difficulty breathing after the last blow.

"I'm sure you all want to come rescue your savior and what-not, but let me remind you... That there are hundreds of rooms in this castle, and that every second you waste, is a second of agony for dear Harry Potter. Happy searching!" Lestrange canceled the spell as Harry's heart sank.

Now that everyone knew he was missing, Harry felt a shred of hope blossom inside of him, which, he knew, was the whole point of that speech. He knew Harry would try resisting again, now that he knew his friends were searching for him. It made him all the more determined to survive this, yet it would be so much easier to manage the pain if he simply didn't care anymore.

Harry swallowed as he stared into Lestrange's cold eyes, knowing that he had meant every word of that speech, especially the agony part.

His heart sank as he remembered that Ron and Hermione knew he'd been going to Gryffindor tower, so they likely would check that area first. The Divination tower was miles away, and also, he realized, the last place anyone would likely think to look.

"A change of tactics are in order, I think." said Lestrange as he vanished the chains, causing Harry to drop to the floor without the support holding him up. Biting back his cry of pain as Lestrange advanced toward him with that manic gleam in his eyes, Harry desperately hoped that his friends wouldn't take too long.

A/N:Review and let me know what you think! And there isn't really a particular reason I brought Fred back, I just couldn't bare to keep him dead when I had the chance to change it.


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